


heavy with the weight of love

by Kendarrr



Series: Faberry Week 2015 [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Adventures in the Afterlife, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Death and Resurrection, F/F, for less than a day but hey, minimal angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4132386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendarrr/pseuds/Kendarrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which <b>Quinn dies and comes back from the dead</b>, Death is a hopeless romantic, and Rachel has no qualms about the potency of her true love’s kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heavy with the weight of love

The room glowed bright when Quinn woke up and opened her heavy eyelids. At first, she thought her eyes were the problem after sleeping so well that everything had an ethereal glow to it. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, arms outstretched before her.

 

Her body felt light, as if filled not with dark, heavy blood but weightless air, sunbeams, and rose petals. The knee injury she got during freshman year when she first joined the Cheerios and did a backflip gone wrong no longer existed. She felt limber, could do the splits right this instant if she wanted and not even needing to stretch beforehand. It was like being reborn.

 

After looking around, it took a few moments to register that she had never been in this room before. The furniture were mismatched, all spanning from different time periods. Some could be antique such as the writing desk on the corner made out of solid oak, but beside it was a computer office desk Quinn swore she saw on an Ikea catalogue a few weeks earlier. The pieces of art that hung on the wall and cluttered up the room also hailed from different eras and styles, yet everything felt familiar, as if she was bound to be here, sooner or later. Like she belonged, for once.

 

Because the room was so disorganized and had no common theme in its design and furnishing, Quinn knew that this was not her parents’ home. She kicked off the quilt and saw that even the clothes on her back were not hers. Sure, she once owned a white sundress, but during her punk phase earlier in the school year, she burned it until it was charred and unrecognizable. A metaphor for how she saw herself, she thought.

 

Quinn’s feet bumped a pair of white bedroom slippers. Her attire made her stick out like a painful bruise on white skin with how stark and bright she looked in the midst of colour and patterns in the room where she woke.

 

About to step out into the hall to find someone who could explain where she was, the door creaked open and in stepped a tall figure wearing a brocaded smoking jacket and thin wire frame glasses with dark lenses. Cropped black hair sat disheveled atop their head. Thick calves poked out from underneath the hem of the coat to reveal feet clad in Converse shoes. Even this person was a walking anachronism in a room full of anachronisms.

 

“So you’re awake!” Their voice was jovial but raspy. “You’re Quinn Fabray, youngest daughter of Russell and Judy Fabray, most popular girl in school, captain of the Cheerios, member and head of the celibacy club in high school until you fell from grace and joined glee club only to feel alienated there—you’d think they would understand how you felt seeing as glee club claimed to be all about family and being a bunch of misfits but I digress—dated all the popular guys in school only to end up feeling estranged from everything and everyone until this girl you thought annoying made you see how beautiful you truly are, how you were _a lot more than that_ —”

 

Quinn flushed and glared at this person whom she couldn’t even tell if they were a man or woman. “What is this place? Who are you? Why do you know all these things about me?”

 

The newcomer grinned, their eyes closing, showing rows of brilliant white teeth. “You have a wiki page, of course.”

 

“I what?”

 

“Nah, just yanking your ponytail. It’s my job to know these things. My ghost writers submitted me the finished manuscript of your life ten minutes ago. Naturally, I kept track of the progress while it was being written, but it’s so nice to have the finished book in your hands with the calfskin binding and all those fresh pages…” They sighed dreamily but soon snapped back to reality. They cleared their throat. “Right, sorry about that. Just know we don’t skimp on funding for bookbinding.”

 

Stunned to silence was the only thing Quinn could be described as while she stared at the person standing before her. “Who _are_ you?”

 

“Me? I’m Death, of course!”

 

 

In a more coordinated room with plush velvet armchairs and an ornate coffee table, Quinn sat stiffly, gripping her knees while Death poured tea into two porcelain cups. The room was high-ceilinged, cluttered, with all four walls covered in rows upon rows of shelves stuffed with books. Another person was in the room, working to reorganize the books into the shelves in no apparent way of categorization.

 

“I told you, boss. You need to revise the way you greet our newcomers.” She said, eyeing Death over the top of the rim of her glasses. “They never take it well when you just burst out and say they’re dead. You have to ease them into the news. How would you feel if you’re told you’re alive again, huh?” Turning to Quinn, she offered a kind smile and her hand. “My name’s Marie. I’m Death’s assistant.”

 

Death winced and appeared to be visibly chastised while they rummaged through the cupboards. “We’re running low on chamomile tea…” They mumbled before taking the seat across from Quinn. “I’m sorry. I really am. I let my own biases and preference for existence get in the way of my job, you see. Anyway,” clearing their throat, Death set a tome on the table in front of Quinn beside a plate of cookies. On the front, Quinn’s name was embossed in gilt. Underneath her name was the date stamped: her birth date and the date of her death. The volume wasn’t as thick as the other books that cluttered up the room and the thought made Quinn’s throat clench.

 

“So, I really am dead?” Quinn croaked, coughing through the dry tightness in her throat. “What happened to me? H-how did I—”

 

“It is normal that you don’t remember. Your consciousness blocks out the pain of the memory so your transition unto death will be more tolerable. But once I tell you what transpired during the events that led to your death you will still feel it. The pain. It gets to be so painful that you will suffer through the agony of it to compensate for having forgotten.” Death suddenly looked serious, unlike how they were a few moments ago when Quinn first met them. “I don’t make the rules. The Maker has a shitty sense of humour and I get the flack for it. I do not know if you want to experience the pain of death and dying, Quinn.”

 

“But I have to, right? To remember what happened?” Quinn stiffened her upper back and faced Death with a level gaze. “I want to remember.”

 

“Normally that speech would talk them out of it,” Death mumbled, fingers dragging through their cropped hair. They removed their dark glasses, revealing dark brown eyes. Blowing into their palms, Death rubbed them as if to warm them. “May I have your hands?”

 

Quinn took a deep breath to steel herself. She reached out, grasped Death’s warmed hands. They locked eyes and Quinn felt a spike of the memories like white-hot iron branding into the back of her skull.

 

“Whatever you do, don’t let go.” Death growled. “It’ll only make the process longer and it’ll hurt more. Just remember, Quinn. The pain you experience now will be reprieved by the comforts of the afterlife. You will be safe here.” Death’s voice mellowed into a comforting note and Quinn nodded, her eyelashes fluttering to a close. A stillness enveloped them. There was a distant ticking of a clock.

 

And then, pain. Sharp and brutal. The deafening noise of metal crunching against metal. Tires screeching. The stench of burnt rubber. The scream of brakes and her head crashing through the windshield. Her phone falling to her floor. A message blinking furiously.

 

**_RACHEL: WHERE ARE YOU?????_ **

 

Quinn released Death’s hands with a gasp, as if burnt. “I-I was on my way to Rachel’s wedding. Oh god, that meant I didn’t make it. Rachel is going to be so pissed with me!”

 

Death pushed a cup of chamomile tea into her palms and she took a shaky drink, the cup rattling against its saucer. “I hardly think that Rachel is annoyed at you because you didn’t make it to her wedding, Quinn.” Death husked, their throat raw. Marie appeared with a jug of chocolate milk that Death didn’t even bother pouring into glasses.

 

“Can I see them? The living… I want to see if they—” Quinn gritted her teeth and wiped away the tears that tried to fall.

 

“Are you sure? Most of the time, people are disappointed by what they see. They rarely see their loved ones collapsing on the ground and wailing in anguish in the way they expect.”

 

Laughing softly, Quinn shook her head. “That’s the difference with me, I suppose. I’ll be surprised if I see someone acting like that.”

 

“Let’s take a trip then,” Death rose to their feet and grabbed a biscuit. “Get dressed, unless you’re okay with those clothes.” They said, motioning to Quinn’s pure white dress. “It makes you look like a bunny.”

 

“And _you_ ’re okay with going out in _that_?” Marie scoffed, pushing Death into a room. “Change into a proper outfit, and not just your smoking jacket, for dying’s sake. Quinn looks better than you.” She winked at Quinn and slammed the door behind Death. “If you’d like travelling clothes, there’s some in that room over there.”

 

“Travelling? Where are we going?”

 

“Back to the living, of course. Didn’t you say you wish to go? You won’t be seen, but the ride is a little windy so you might want to wear pants or something.”

 

After changing into black pants and a jacket, Quinn stepped out and saw Marie fussing with Death’s hair. They were clad in jeans and a sweater. “Quinn, you’re here!” Death grinned with Marie’s hands smoothing down their hair.

 

Death took Quinn’s hand and with a wave of farewell to Marie, they disappeared. It was like being in a car with its top down, the wind blowing towards them at full speed. It was deafening, the way they careened down the highway in between life and death.

 

They emerged in the all too familiar field of McKinley High with its verdant green grass and the empty bleachers.

 

“Why did you bring me here?” Quinn asked while smoothing down her hair.

 

“You’d rather I bring you to your parents’ home?” Quinn remained silent. “I didn’t think so. I brought you here because the people who love you are inside that building.”

 

Quinn thought that being dead meant being able to go through walls but when she tried, she slammed against the chains that separated the field from the parking lot and almost tripped. Death stifled a laugh and ended up choking.

 

“Sorry, I forgot to tell you. The going through walls bit doesn’t apply for you just yet. You’re still bound to the physical plane since you just died a few hours ago. The transition isn’t complete so you’ll bump into things. Which means you have to be extra careful or they’ll know you’re haunting them.”

 

Huffing, Quinn brushed at her pants. “You could’ve told me that sooner, jerk.”

 

Death grinned and opened the door for her. “My bad, my bad.”

 

The hallways looked the same, except the colours looked bleak, but perhaps that was just Quinn’s vision. They approached the choir room, its door closed. Quinn couldn’t hear what was happening inside, but she took a peek and saw that almost everyone was there, still clad in their clothes from Finn and Rachel’s unfinished wedding.

 

Brittany and Santana sat by each other, their hands clasped. Brittany was crying freely against Santana’s shoulder, while the other held on to the taller girl with a quivering upper lip. Everyone else were also crying or have shed their tears so only the sound of sniffling came from them. Finn had his face in his hands, and Puck had a bloody fist, jaw tight from clenching his teeth. The wall was caved in behind him.

 

 Almost everyone was there except for Rachel.

 

Quinn bit her lip and turned her face away. A stabbing pain wrenched at the spot where her un-beating heart was supposed to be. Maybe Rachel didn’t care enough for her to be with the others who were mourning Quinn’s death. Fine, whatever. Quinn knew her to be selfish anyway.

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Death whispered, their arm around Quinn’s shoulders as they led her away from the choir room. “You’re looking for Rachel. She’s the only one not in that room, and I think you’re jumping to the worst conclusions. You think she doesn’t care for you enough that she’s not there with them, right?”

 

“Do you always know all the people that die inside and out?” Quinn complained.

 

“Just the ones in my jurisdiction,” Death ushered her out of the school building. “It’s the least I could do. That way, those newly dead don’t feel so alone, don’t feel the need to explain themselves in the realm of the dead. Plus, I love to read.”

 

“Thanks, Death.” Quinn murmured, hugging them tightly.

 

“Hey, hey. Save that for later. I have one more place to take you.” Reaching for Quinn’s hand, Death snapped their fingers and off they went into another turbulent ride.

 

Only to end up in front of Rachel’s front step. Quinn’s eyes widened and she took a step back. “I’m not going in there. I’m not in the mood to listen to that tiny diva belting out show tunes about having to cancel her wedding because I had to go off and die.” Quinn’s voice wavered and tears flowed from her eyes, leaving hot streaks on her face. “You can’t make me. _Please_ don’t make me.”

 

“I have to,” Death said quietly. “Or you’ll regret missing this opportunity to say your goodbyes, even if she won’t see you. You’re doing this for yourself, Quinn. It is so you won’t resent those who continue living without you.”

 

Resigned, Quinn walked through the front door of the Berry household. Death opened and shut the door carefully that Hiram and Leroy barely looked up from their position on the living room couch. Hiram was crying with Leroy’s arms around his husband. They were silent and would look upwards toward the ceiling ever so often.

 

“You would think she’d be playing music right now,” Leroy murmured, “with the way she was loud and angry at everyone when we heard the news.”

 

Hiram stroked Leroy’s knee and dabbed at the tears on his face. “Let our baby mourn however she wants, Lee. But we should go check up on her, see if she’s hungry.”

 

Rising to his feet, Leroy kissed the top of Hiram’s head and went to the kitchen to prepare a tray of snacks for Rachel, as well as a tall bottle of water. Quinn and Death followed him up the stairs, waiting for the opportunity to slip into Rachel’s room without alarming her.

 

“Honey,” Leroy knocked softly, leaning his head against the door. “I brought you something to eat and drink. Please open the door.”

 

There was shuffling and then the sound of sniffling. Quinn stiffened and glanced at Death who had a worried furrow in their brow. The door opened by just a hair. Soft muffled music of Rachel’s and Quinn’s one and only duet played. Rachel’s swollen red eyes peeked out from the room where on the floor was a heap of tissues and an album with the pages opened to photographs of Quinn.

 

“Thanks, daddy.” Rachel whispered, and the hollowness that rang in her voice made Quinn ache. She stood almost by Leroy’s side to stare into those gorgeous brown eyes that were swollen with tears but were still brighter than the sun. She longed to reach out, touch that warm cheek, and assure her that all was well… But it wasn’t. Quinn was, after all, dead.

 

Taking the tray and a kiss from Leroy, Rachel carried it into her bedroom giving Quinn and Death just enough time to slip in before the door closed.

 

“Why do you think Rachel wasn’t with the others in the music room?” Death asked in a low murmur. They walked around, looking at the photos up on the board: mostly of Rachel with the members of glee club, some of her performing. Waving Quinn over, Death pointed to a lone photograph of just Quinn among the sea of photos.

 

“I don’t know, I guess she just wants to cry alone?”

 

“Are you asking me? Because I asked first.”

 

Quinn gritted her teeth in frustration, turning her back towards the wall of photographs to watch Rachel drink the entire bottle of water down.

 

“I don’t know, okay? Why, do you have any guesses?”

 

Shrugging, Death touched Quinn’s photograph on the wall. “I do, of course.” They shot Quinn a glance and smiled. “But I won’t tell you anything because you’ll think I’m crazy.”

 

Rachel sat on the floor by her bed once more, with the album on her lap. Fingertips danced along Quinn’s photographic face. A fresh bout of tears started.

 

“I shouldn’t have made you hurry,” Rachel sobbed in a way that wrenched Quinn’s stomach and made her lungs hurt. “I should’ve listened to you all this time… You’re barely gone but I miss you so much, Quinn. I didn’t even get to tell you how I really felt.” A broken cry, and Rachel dug her chin against her propped knees.

 

“I can’t watch this,” Quinn whispered though her eyes never left Rachel. She approached her, kneeling by her side and yearning to touch her. Ignoring what she thought was a worried look in Death’s features, Quinn touched her fingertips to Rachel’s warm, tear-streaked cheek. The softness of life and the heat of the living coursed through Quinn and it made her shudder.

 

Rachel looked up and it was as if she was staring into Quinn’s eyes. For an instant, Quinn was terrified that she was seen. In Rachel’s eyes, there was pain, and fear, and loneliness. And then there was longing hidden in the black flecks in Rachel’s eyes. So strong was this longing that Quinn could feel its pull in her gut. As if just looking into Rachel’s eyes was enough to bring her back from the dead.1

 

Quinn dared not look away, but Death’s hand on her shoulder made her look up at them. “It’s time for us to go,” they murmured.

 

“No! I-I can’t leave yet. I just got here!” Quinn remained seated, dangerously close to Rachel. “If you need to go back, you can come pick me up later. Or you could teach me the way to go back! Just _please,_ don’t make me leave Rachel.”

 

“I’m sorry, Quinn. But you must return with me. If I leave you here, you’ll end up binding yourself to Rachel and you’ll haunt her for the rest of her days. You might not see a problem in that for the moment, but what about in the future? You’ll be bound to her, so you’ll be forced to be where she was. What if she was having sex with someone, or falls in love with someone else? You’re going to have to suffer through that heartbreak and I don’t think it’s worth it. Do you?”

 

“Fine,” Quinn sobbed, taking one last look at Rachel. She doesn’t know when would be the next time she could see her. “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

 

They were back in the realm of the dead before Quinn could count to five. Marie was there, smoothing out Quinn’s hair and ushering her to sit on the couch with a fresh plate of cookies and cold milk. She made a jerking motion to Death who sighed. Together they left the room so Quinn could be alone with her thoughts. The crystalline image of Rachel’s face heavy and imposed in her mind.

 

 

“I wantto go back there,” Quinn blurted out as soon as Death stepped back into the office. Looking at her with a startled look on their eyes, Quinn sat back down again and stared into the bottom of her tea cup with the dregs of chamomile petals clinging to the porcelain. “I _need_ to go back there.”

 

“Where is _there_ , exactly?” Death sat down behind a desk with a stack of papers before it. The dark lens of their glasses made it impossible for Quinn to gauge their reaction.

 

“Where else? I need to live again. I can’t be here. It’s not right.”

 

Death shot Quinn a look. “Do you think I take people who don’t deserve it? That I just go all willy-nilly taking people’s lives when it’s not their time yet?” Quinn froze, never having heard Death speak in a scathing tone in the few hours they knew each other. They looked hurt, avoiding Quinn’s eyes. “It’s not true. You’re being unfair, Quinn. Just because you just realized that you’re in love with Rachel after years of repression and Rachel loves you back doesn’t mean I can tip the scales in your favour.” Death stamped the paperwork before them with such force that the cup of pens rattled.

 

Stunned into silence, Quinn gripped her knees and refused to look at Death. “Forgive me for being such a late bloomer,” spat Quinn with a roll of her eyes. “Forgive me for being terrified beyond belief of loving someone, refusing to believe that for just one second, they might love me back. Did you ever think about how my parents brought me up? With a whole lot of wrongs and hatred in my heart?” Quinn shot up and the expression on her face was one that functioned out of muscle memory.

 

“What would be the use of my thinking of those things? I can’t meddle with the affairs of the living!” Death growled, fists clenched. “And as much as I love happy endings, I’m still a sucker for tragic ones.”

 

“So that’s all I am? A tragic ending to the stories you read? I thought you’re supposed to make us feel welcome? You’re doing a pretty crap job about it.”

 

Death groaned, burying their face to their palms. “You’re so infuriating!”

 

“Right back at you!” Quinn snapped.

 

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t.” Death muttered. “You forfeited your life as soon as you crossed over. I need to take someone else’s life to bring you back. Equal trade, you understand.”

 

Quinn chewed her lip. “But you said the transition between life and death was still incomplete.”

 

“True,” with steepled fingers, Death stared off into the distance. “But think about it. What would people think when they’ve been crying their eyes out about losing you and then, poof, you’re back? No, we need to turn back time for this. Marie!”

 

Their assistant came in, pushing a cart of new books. “What?”

 

“I need to turn back time to early this morning to bring Quinn back to life.”

 

“But only _theoretically_ , right?”

 

“No!” Death shot up to their feet. “Of course not just theoretically. This is for true love, Maker damn it.”

 

“We can’t just go off resurrecting people for true love!” Marie insisted. “No offense, Quinn.”

 

“None taken,” she smiled.

 

“Oh, so if it’s Marie being a naysayer, you’re suddenly okay with it?” Death grumbled, leafing through thick tomes that appeared to be the manual for being a reaper. “Let’s see… I don’t need time travel, necessarily. I just have to memory-wipe all who know, remove all evidence of your death. Paperwork, the totalled car and truck… Your parents haven’t really told a lot of people about your dying so memory-wiping will be an easy enough job.”

 

“What about my body?” Quinn asked.

 

“We have a blueprint in your file,” Death replied, still reading through the thick book. “We can just replicate it, no worries.”

 

“You’re forgetting one thing,” said Marie. “What about the idea of loss they felt when they lost Quinn? You can wipe their memory but not the way they feel. They’ll be wondering what made them so sad yesterday and they won’t have the memory to explain it.”

 

“They got an anxiety attack. Everyone gets those.”

 

Marie glared at Death and punched their shoulder. “The entire glee club gets an anxiety attack with no visible reason for it? Get real! And what about the cancelled wedding? You’re ignoring important things again!”

 

“And that’s why you’re here.” Death grinned and kissed the top of Marie’s head. “Make me a list of everyone I need to memory-wipe, please. And give Quinn a list of what she needs to get rid of, because she’ll be her own clean-up crew. You need to do it all before midnight, by the way.” Death told Quinn. “Enough time for you to head to Rachel’s and get true love’s kiss before the clock strikes.”

 

“What?” Quinn screeched. “I have to kiss Rachel?”

 

Death snorted and removed their glasses to rub their eyelids. “Don’t act so repulsed.”

 

“I’m not,” insisted Quinn. “I just don’t see how I would go about in doing that.”

 

“You’ll figure something out,” Death said absently. They took the list from Marie and handed Quinn her to-do list. “Remember. Before midnight.”

 

“Do I _really_ need to kiss Rachel?” Quinn demanded in something that sounded like a whine. “What if she doesn’t really like me in that way?”

 

Death’s eyes narrowed. “Like how?”

 

“In a romantic way, how else?”

 

“She doesn’t need to like you romantically to want to kiss you.”

 

“Gee, thanks.” Quinn scowled at Death who laughed and rubbed her shoulders.

 

“Just kidding. Look, if she tells you that she doesn’t love the pants off of you, then you can come back from the living and kill me. Don’t overthink this, Quinn. Just do what you have to do for now. And the kiss is really important. I didn’t add it for giggles, though it _does_ make me giggle.” Death grinned. “It’s something that binds your essence back on the physical plane. Something like, sharing Rachel’s spit will ground you back on Earth.”

 

“Gross,” Quinn made a face.

 

“What, that’s all what kissing is!”

 

“I’m glad that you’re more concerned about the kiss than the fact that you have to get rid of all evidence of your death,” Marie said. “How in dying’s name are you going to get rid of a two-ton car?”

 

“I figured it would just disappear into the void when I touch it.” Quinn shrugged.

 

“Do you really think physics is going to let you do that?”

 

 

It was hard work, getting rid of all the traces of the destruction Quinn’s death left. From the car to the death certificates, the traces of Finn and Rachel’s failed wedding, the dresses… Marie made sure to remember every single detail. While she was in the middle of getting rid of the evidence of her death she didn’t appreciate it, of course.

 

The last thing to get rid of was Rachel’s wedding dress. With a hopeful heart, Quinn snuck back into the Berry household. To her relief, Rachel finally changed out of her wedding dress and hung it inside her closet. Clad only in a pair of tiny shorts and a loose shirt, she napped.

 

Quinn disposed of the wedding dress, the invitations, everything that might remind Rachel of this fiasco. The conniving relief of deleting all the notifications of ‘FINCHEL WEDDING!!’ in Rachel’s laptop and phone was addictive. Quinn hardly felt bad about it.

 

Once she was done deleting the same notifications from Rachel’s dads’ phones, Quinn passed by Rachel’s room once again.

 

“I’ll come back from the dead for you, Rachel.” Quinn murmured softly. She closed the door to her bedroom and disappeared back into the realm of the dead where Death was waiting beside Quinn’s physical body. Death instructed her to walk into the body so she could inhabit the corporeal form. Startled at the sudden weight, the sound of her heart pumping in her ribcage, Quinn felt the burden of life in the pit of her stomach.

 

And it felt wonderful.

 

“All done, then? Good,” rising to their feet, Death stretched and yawned. “Once you cross back, your book will be copied all over again. I’m not sure whether it’s wise that we include your stint in the world of the dead will be included, but I’ll decide that later on.” Death paused and gave Quinn a quick onceover, a gentle look in their eyes. “Are you sure you really want to do this, Quinn? Personally, I’m offended that you would hate to stay with us so much that you’re coming back from the dead to avoid us.” They were grinning and Quinn smiled back.

 

“It’s not that I hate you—”

 

“You just love Rachel more. _A lot_ more. I understand. Well,” Death offered their hand which Quinn took. “Back to the living with you, then.”

 

Quinn was not even the least bit surprised that Death transported them to the front of the Berry house once again, a smug grin on their face. Coming up to the door, Quinn hesitated. “Rachel can see me now, right?”

 

“Of course,” Death squeezed Quinn’s shoulder. “You can do this. I believe in your love, Quinn. As should you.”

 

She pressed the doorbell and heard the soft padding of feet. Her heart, thundering like a herd of stampeding bulls, made her light-headed. The door opened and there was Rachel. Her hair, tousled from her nap, her eyes puffy from crying.

 

“Quinn! What are you doing here? Not that I don’t want you here, it’s just…” Rachel let out a shaky breath and an even shakier smile. “I had this weird rush of missing you, of wanting to see you.” Rachel’s breath caught and she reached out to touch Quinn’s cheek. “And I’m so relieved now that I did.”

 

Leaning into Rachel’s touch, Quinn took a step forward. “I need to ask you a favour,” she said, covering the back of Rachel’s hand with her palm.

 

“Anything, Quinn.”

 

Another deep breath. No longer that nerve-wracking, with the warm touch of Rachel against her cheek. She felt so solid, so _real_ , so heavy with the weight of love.

 

“Can I, I mean… Can we kiss?”

 

If Rachel was surprised about Quinn’s request, she did not show a hint of it. All she did, really, from what Quinn focused on and remembered, was the way Rachel’s lips curled into a delicate smile. How her fingers framed her ears. How she rose to the tips of her toes in her bare feet against the doormat, and kissed Quinn.

 

Light blossomed in her chest, and that was how Quinn knew she was alive.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 It is!!!!!


End file.
